The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [82]
“It isn’t easy to concentrate with all these rumors flying around,” Cyrus said. “Is it true that the poor woman is dead?”
“That much at least is not rumor,” Emerson admitted. “How she died is as yet unknown. Peabody is in Luxor, harassing the police.”
“I figured she would be,” Cyrus said, suppressing a smile which would have been out of place. “There’ll have to be an autopsy, I suppose.”
“I have offered to perform it, if the authorities agree,” Nefret said.
Bertie let out a little murmur of protest.
“It’s my job, Bertie,” Nefret said. “Honestly, it doesn’t bother me.”
“No,” Jumana declared. “You do your job as a man would do it. Like me.”
“Go and do it, then,” said Emerson. He stood up and began pacing.
“You couldn’t move me with a block and tackle,” Cyrus said, leaning back in his chair. “I want to hear what Amelia has to say. Don’t try and tell me you aren’t as distracted as we are.”
“Bah,” said Emerson. He stared out along the road. “What the devil is keeping her?”
Knowing his mother, Ramses expected it would take her some time to finish “harassing” all and sundry. The sun had passed the zenith and Fatima was setting out a cold luncheon when she and Sethos arrived.
“Let’s have it, Amelia,” Cyrus demanded. “What’s the latest?”
“Let me see. Where to begin?”
“With the matter of greatest urgency, perhaps?” Nefret suggested. “The postmortem.”
Her mother-in-law patted her hand. “Of course, my dear. The Pethericks have agreed to it. After persuading them I stopped at the station and informed Inspector Ayyid. He would like you to do it this afternoon, so that she can be buried tomorrow.”
Nefret nodded and selected a cheese sandwich. Ramses swallowed and averted his eyes. He was accustomed to corpses, ancient and modern, but he would never get used to the idea of his beautiful elegant wife up to her wrists in blood and even more unpleasant fluids.
His mother had gone on to describe the arrangements for the burial, which would be in the foreign cemetery of Luxor.
“One might have supposed she would wish to be buried in England, beside her husband,” Ramses said.
“Miss Petherick felt it was unnecessary and impractical,” said his mother. Which it was; but Ramses knew his mother wouldn’t give a curse about practicality in a comparable situation. His mind winced away from the idea. He’d deal with it when he had to, if he had to, but he didn’t want to think about it.
“Ayyid agrees with me that the circumstances are suspicious,” his mother continued. She repeated the gardener’s account of his discovery of the body. Her audience listened with morbid fascination.
“I took a number of photographs,” she concluded. “Though I don’t suppose they will tell us much. The ground had been too trampled. Nefret, perhaps you and David can develop the photographs for me.”
Nefret rose and brushed the crumbs off her skirt. “Not today, Mother. I must get my instruments ready.”
Ramses had no intention of allowing his wife to go to Luxor alone. He couldn’t do anything except be there, but that at least he owed her. He explained the situation to Katchenovsky, who had arrived precisely on schedule, and apologized for leaving him alone.
“Not at all. I am so very sorry,” the Russian murmured. “Do you want me to continue cataloging the remaining scraps?”
“I’ve had a look at most of them. I’d rather you tried your hand at copying and translating the fragment I’ve laid out for you. It appears to be a list of supplies.”
Ramses had known his mother wouldn’t miss the autopsy, and where she went, Emerson followed. She refused Cyrus’s invitation to dine.
“I don’t know how long we will be,” she explained. “Come round tomorrow, if you like.”
David and Sethos joined the group, and they went straight to the zabtiyeh, where they found not only Ayyid but two other officials waiting. One was an Egyptian, the district commandant of police from Sohag; the other was the British district adviser, a red-faced, stern-looking man named Rayburn. Ayyid’s tight lips indicated what he thought of their interference, but it was standard procedure, and there wasn